“THE FUTURE WILL SHOW.”
While Robert is gone for his father we will return to Squire Moulton’s
mansion.
It was a large and elegant building, unique in its architecture and
adornments, and furnished with the most exquisite taste. It was a home
of exceeding beauty, but, with all its costliness and splendor, it was a
dreary and lonely home, for its master lived alone, with only his
servants for companions. No loving smile from a tender and affectionate
wife greeted him when he came; no watchful eyes or listening ears waited
to catch the shadow of his form, or the sound of his footsteps; no
prattling voices made the lofty rooms ring with their joy and merriment,
or sang out the glad word “papa” at his approach. No, it was a dreary
life of lonely splendor.
I said he lived alone; but not alone all of the time, for his nephew,
Ralph Moulton, a youth of seventeen, made his uncle’s mansion his home,
and was always there to spend his holidays. The squire had brought him
home when he came from abroad, and when the boy was very young, merely
saying he was his nephew and would always remain with him.
He gave him every advantage, which, to the lad’s credit be it said, he
eagerly improved, and he was now preparing for college. He was a clever,
active youth, very attractive in form and feature, and when nothing went
wrong was pleasant and agreeable. But when in a passion he displayed the
same sinister emotions that moved his uncle. He was selfish and cruel at
heart, aiming only to gratify his own desires and passions, in spite of
all opposition. Report said that he was to inherit the squire’s
property, indeed he had been brought to believe so himself, and the
world bowed down in reverence and humility accordingly. He was now at
home on a few days’ vacation.
The squire, on entering his mansion, after the departure of the
children, proceeded in deep thought to his library again. When here he
violently pulled a bell-rope, and then seated himself in a large
easy-chair, burying his face in his hands.
Presently the massive door swung softly open, and a servant stood
respectfully awaiting his commands.
Squire Moulton raised his head and said, in a harsh voice:
“Is Master Ralph in?”
“No, sir,” replied the man, “he went fishing this morning, and has not
yet returned.”
“Well, send him immediately to me on his return. You may go.”
With an humble bow the man disappeared.
Half an hour, perhaps more, elapsed, when the sound of whistling was
heard in the hall, and immediately the door opened again, and the young
man in question entered.
He was dressed with exquisite neatness, and very gentlemanly in bearing
and manners.
“Well, uncle, John told me I was wanted here, so I came as soon as I
could get off some of the fish smell—such mean luck I never had before,”
he said, a vexed look coming into his handsome face at the remembrance.
“I did wish to see you, Ralph; be seated, for I have much to say to
you.”
The young man obeyed, inwardly wondering what was coming.
“Did you ever hear me speak of a man named Robert Ellerton?” asked the
old man, looking sharply at his nephew.
“No, sir, but I’ve seen you look mighty cross if any one else happened
to speak his name in your presence,” was the curt reply.
“You perhaps know that he has a son by the same name?” was the next
query.
“Yes, sir, I’ve met him, and he’s a tip-top fellow, for a youngster, and
smart as chain lightning!”
The squire’s face was black as night at this stream of praise, which,
coming from such a source, annoyed him exceedingly.
“Spare your praises,” he said sarcastically; “perhaps you won’t laud him
so highly when you hear what I have to tell you.”
“Well, out with it, uncle. What has the boy done? Thrown a stone and
broken one of your treasured nymphs out yonder?”
And Ralph motioned toward the grounds, which could be seen from the deep
bay-window near which they sat.
“Cease your nonsense, boy, and listen, for I have a story to tell you,”
replied Squire Moulton, angrily.
He paused a few moments, while an expression of pain swept over his hard
face. At length, with an effort, he began; while Ralph listened,
wonderingly.
“When I was a boy of nineteen or twenty, I loved a beautiful girl. Her
name was Jessie Almyr. I need not describe her; my days of rhapsodies
are passed. Sufficient that I loved her with all the fire of my heart.
It had grown with the growth of years, for we had been intimate from
childhood, and I had almost begun to consider her as rightfully
belonging to me.
“I had never told her of my love; I was poor then, and would not offer
her an empty hand. I had written to an uncle in the city for a
situation, and was waiting for an answer, which, if favorable, I felt
would then place me in a position that would warrant my telling Jessie
how dear she was to me.
“While waiting for the much-wished for answer, a young man two or three
years older than myself came to our village. He was rich, talented and
handsome. He was introduced to Jessie, and, of course, loved her, too.
Who could help it that knew her? But I will not anticipate. The
long-looked for letter at last arrived, telling me that I could have the
situation, and offering me an ample salary, more than I had expected,
and I felt that now I could support my bride in comfort. Wild with joy,
I sought her and poured out the whole story of my love, not dreaming but
that her reply would be all I could wish. She listened with downcast
eyes and beating heart; I could see it throb beneath the folds of her
dress. Her cheek was flushed, and I felt that I was almost sure of my
prize, when—oh, my God! I can never forget it——”
The squire stopped and covered his face with his hands, while tears
gathered in his eyes and rolled down his withered cheeks, as the memory
of his blighted hopes rushed over him. It was some minutes before he
could proceed, and there was utter silence in the room. Finally he
raised his head; a stern, hard look had taken the place of the softened
expression, and he continued:
“We were standing before a window that looked out on the western sky;
the sun was just setting, and its yellow rays streamed in a golden glory
all around my love, making her look like some bright-robed divinity.
When I had finished telling her my hopes and plans, her lips moved as if
she was about to speak, and I bent my ear to catch the blessed words.
She raised her eyes, and I could have sworn that the love-light was in
their bright depths; but—the sound of a horse’s footsteps outside drew
them from me to rest on the handsome face and figure of Robert Ellerton
as he rode by on horseback.
“He saw us, bowed gracefully, and waved one daintily gloved hand to her.
“The look of love fled from my darling’s eyes, as his form passed from
sight, and with an absent-minded air she said she was afraid she did not
love me well enough to be my wife—that she could not give me as much in
return as I could wish.
“I protested that if she would only be mine, I would never complain of a
lack of affection. She replied that she would think of my offer for a
day or two before she gave me her answer. I gazed at her for a moment in
astonishment—I was so sure she loved me! I could hardly believe it was
the same Jessie whom I had always worshiped—her manner was so changed.
“Half-mad with jealousy, and the fear that I might lose her after all, I
seized her in my arms and kissed her passionately. She gently released
herself, and I went away—and—I never spoke to her again!
“A few days after, she sent me a note, telling me she could not be my
wife—that she did not love me well enough, and she would not wrong me by
giving me her hand without her heart.
“Oh! I saw it all! I saw it all! Another had usurped my place! Ralph,
listen to me!”
The agitated old man leaped forward, while he whispered, hoarsely:
“In three months from that time she married that villain, Robert
Ellerton—that city dandy. Yes, she chose a shallow love, of three or
four months’ growth, to a devotion of years—but he was rich, and I was
poor. But I swear he stole her from me—he stole her from me—the thief
that he is!”
The bitter remembrance was too much for the squire, and he sank back
nearly fainting in his chair.
Ralph sprang up, poured out a glass of wine, and held it up to his lips.
He swallowed it eagerly, and it revived him. He was about to proceed,
when his nephew interrupted him:
“Uncle, do not finish your story to-night. Some other time will do as
well; though, for the life of me, I can’t see yet what I have to do with
it.”
“No, no, my boy; I must finish it now; I should not have courage to
begin again. Well, they were married, and went to their city home—for he
was rich, and lived in great style—while I was left to my loneliness and
desolation, without a thought or care. But I swore revenge, deep and
fearful, and since I have had means to secure it, I have sought to keep
my oath! For awhile I lost track of them, but finally followed them to
this city, though I only heard to-day that Jessie was dead. She died
nearly fifteen years ago, and I never knew it until to-day. And to-day I
have begun my work of revenge in earnest.”
He then narrated how he had married the children, and sent them home
with the certificate made out in due form in their pockets.
“Now Ralph,” he continued, “what I want of you is to help me fulfill my
oath. I want you to watch this boy and defeat every plan of his life. Be
his evil genius, as it were. I have given the father a heavy blow in
marrying his son to a poor girl, for he is as proud as Lucifer. I don’t
care what you do or how you do it, only ruin him, and his girl wife,
too. I want them to experience a little of what I have suffered, and of
what has made me an old man before my time. I look more than fifty, and
am not yet forty. In return for your promise to do this I will bequeath
you all my fortune. I may not live to see the end of it—I do not expect
to, for I have heart disease, and am liable to die at any time. Will you
do it?”
Ralph had been deeply interested in his uncle’s story, but he hesitated
now to give the desired promise. At last he said:
“I don’t know, uncle, about it; it’s a pretty hard task to set a fellow,
to avenge another man’s injuries, especially when he’s in no way
concerned himself.”
“Perhaps you’re more concerned in it than you think,” replied his uncle,
eying him wickedly.
“I should like the fortune well enough, but I thought—I have always
thought I was to have that anyway.”
“Oh, really, young man, have you? Pray, who informed you to that
effect?” sneered the squire.
Ralph blushed angrily.
“I have been brought up with that hope always held out to me. If any one
is to blame in the matter I think it’s you,” he retorted.
“Indeed! But let me ask you, have you any conscientious scruples about
undertaking this affair?”
“Hang it, no!” answered Ralph. “Conscience and I don’t trouble each
other much. But how do I know but you may get a grudge against me
sometime, and then where will the fortune go?”
“Very well, young man, you can do as you choose about it,” replied the
squire, bitterly. “But as long as a fortune of half a million does not
seem to tempt you, perhaps I can whisper a word in your ear that will
have more weight with you; and you will be glad to seek revenge on your
own account.”
“Well, what is it?” impatiently demanded the boy.
“Presently, presently; but first tell me why you thought you would be my
heir.”
“Why, I am your nephew for one thing, and——”
“My nephew, are you? Can you prove it?”
“Prove it! what do you mean, sir!”
Ralph was beginning to be frightened at the other’s manner and words.
The squire looked almost fiendish, as his face glowed with a sudden
thought and determination. He leaned toward the youth, speaking in a low
tone, as if fearful of being overheard.
“I mean,” he said, “that you are not my nephew!”
“You lie!” gasped the thunder-struck boy, with a white face. “Then why
am I here?”
“Yes,” coolly replied Squire Moulton, “I have lied. My whole life for
the last few years has been a lie. You are here simply because I brought
you here. You are a part of my plan of revenge!”
The old man’s face grew ghastly at this statement.
Ah! what a double lie was on his soul!
“You old schemer, this is too much! If I am not your nephew, who am I
then?”
He sprang to his feet, and stood with one clenched hand raised as if he
would strike the evil man before him dead.
“Oh, you begin to be interested, do you?” was the taunting reply. “You
are ready enough to look after your own interests, but won’t risk
anything to help another.”
“Who am I? I ask you,” fairly hissed the boy, the perspiration starting
from every pore of his white, convulsed face.
“Will you promise——”
“I promise nothing; but I’ll choke you if you don’t tell me quick,” and
he glared savagely at his uncle.
The wicked squire looked uneasy. He sat in deep thought for a moment,
while Ralph watched him in stern and breathless silence. He was about to
venture a great stake, and if he failed it might prove the worse for
him. At last he heaved a deep sigh, and with sudden determination in his
voice, said:
“Put your ear down here, Ralph, for I would not have a breath of this
heard.”
Ralph bent close to the old man, his white face growing whiter with the
intense excitement he felt.
“You are——”
The rest was in a swift, hissing whisper, but the boy heard it, for his
eyes instantly blazed with a lightning passion, while the rage and hate
shown in every feature, and he shook as with an ague fit.
“Curse him! Ten thousand maledictions on him! I will do it!” he wildly
exclaimed, striding up and down the room in a towering fury.
“Ha, ha!” laughed the other. “I thought you’d come to your senses, my
fine fellow. Now you can work for two fortunes instead of one.”
He laughed wickedly, and looked so evil that his cloven-footed master
must have been proud of such an ally.
“I don’t believe it. I won’t believe it,” said Ralph, stopping suddenly,
as if in doubt. “I don’t see how it can be possible.”
“Very well,” answered Squire Moulton, with an ugly sneer. “Sit down
again and be calm, and I will tell you how it happens to be so. I will
give you the whole history.”
Ralph Moulton (for we who are not in the secret must still call him so)
went to the sideboard and poured out a glass of wine, which he instantly
drained, and then resumed his seat.
“Draw nearer,” said the squire, “for should a breath of this be heard it
would spoil all our plans.”
Ralph obeyed, and for an hour listened with breathless interest to the
exciting story related by his supposed uncle.
And as they sat there, those two with their white faces and coal black
eyes that glowed with the fierce fires of hate and revenge, any one
would have been willing to swear, so fearfully alike was the expression
of both, that they inherited the same evil passions, and that the same
blood flowed in their veins.
Did it?
The future will show.